Carpe Diem
by midnightcoward
Summary: All chapters are posted simultaneously. Booth follows Brennan to a conference after they've ended their relationship. BB established.
1. O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

**Author's note: as some of you already know, I prefer to post all of my stories at once, to prevent 6 month gaps between posting. I apologize for any inconvenience. Enjoy, or don't. It's up to you.  
-MC**

_Brennan_

Heartbroken.

Who could have coined this phrase? Obviously not a scientist. The heart is a muscle, and as anyone with any sort of biology background knows, muscles aren't capable of breaking. They can emaciate, be torn, ripped, cut, or even crushed. But not broken.

People seem to be so fascinated with the idea. A broken heart. They write songs about it, create paintings, movies, plays. I myself had contemplated studying the effects of grief (aka heartbrokenness - which is a real word), for a thesis in college. The trouble was that anyone that was in any sort of heartbroken state was never a willing subject. I often wondered why they never wanted to participate in my study, after all it was in the interests of science. I had even experienced it myself once before, as a teen; though to be fair that part of my life is hazy at best. Now, though, I seem to understand. I'd hate to think what would have happened to anyone that attempted to interview me on my feelings about Booth following the conclusion of our relationship. The truth is, I don't believe there is a word in the English language, or any language for that matter (I am fluent in several) that accurately quantifies the exquisite pain I felt then.

It also seems as though any previous dealings with being heartbroken do not at all prepare you for future heartbreak. For instance, the pain I felt when Booth ended our relationship was just as bad, if not worse, as when I found out that my parents were missing. At that time, I was scared of course, and confused. But I was younger, more naïve. I still had hope.

This time, the only dim flicker of hope I could hold onto was that perhaps when I woke up in the morning, the pain might be fractionally lessened. It seemed I had finally found the perfect candidate for my study. Myself.

XX

In the brief months of our relationship I had learned more from Booth than even someone with my learning curve could have guessed was possible. And in the long weeks following our breakup, he taught me more about myself than I'd ever wanted to know.

For instance, the fact that the life of solitude I had coveted for so long was not really a life at all. As I ate alone at the diner, slept in the cold sheets of my bed, lay up at night watching the television he'd insisted on buying (despite the fact that I make more than he does), I realized that I had only been fooling myself into believing I wanted to be alone. Now who was the fool.

The loneliness that awoke within me was tangible, and so much worse than the dull ache it had been in the years prior to meeting my friends at the Jeffersonain. Somehow in the time it had been away, it had grown, evolved into a living entity. It slithered through my body and clawed at my lungs with fingernails laced with accusation. (To clarify, I am using a literary device here, in this case personification…I was not afflicted with some sort of parasite)

Never was I more acutely aware of this loneliness than when I was standing right next to him. My body did not understand that he was no longer mine. It had already been trained in a Pavlovian style to react to his proximity, to respond to his smell, his touch, the heat from his body. When he would stand beside me on the platform, the hairs on my arms would rise, my skin would prickle uncomfortably, my heart rate would increase dramatically, and eventually I would be forced to leave. I did this because I knew that if I stayed, I wouldn't have been able to control myself. I knew that I would take his wrist in my fingers and pull him close to me, rest my forehead on his so I could feel the heat of his breath on my face, and state to him everything I wanted to say, all the things I knew he wanted to hear. But I have spent my life disciplining myself. I know how to keep myself under control when I need to. So I would go work in my office until I knew that he had left. Angela calls it hiding. I call it surviving.

XXX

When the chance to speak at a conference was presented to me, I knew immediately that I would go. It was the perfect opportunity to remove myself from an environment that was becoming increasingly hard to exist in. While the lab had been my home for many years, a fact that Booth had forced to me admit, it was now my enemy. I wasn't safe there. I could feel their eyes on me when he entered the room, waiting to see how I would react. Everything became silent, as though someone had thrown a blanket of stillness over the Jeffersonian. I think they were all waiting for me to have some sort of mental episode.

But this trip gave me the excuse I needed to leave that, at least for a period of time, and in my absence I hoped things could return to normal. I was to present at the forensic archeology symposium on my research concerning the reverse engineering of bullets using bone markings, a project I'd been cultivating for several years that was only then coming to fruition. The last time I had been to the "city of sin" was an opportunity to role-play, wear clothes that revealed more skin than I would normally show at the beach, do and say things I would never dream of doing, and subtly experiment as to what it might be like to live my life with Booth. Now it was an experiment on whether I could survive without him. I left the next day. I believe that my altered emotional state prevented me from seeing what I should have known was obvious.

He was already there when I arrived.

XX

Any protestations I had to Booth's entirely unneeded presence fell on deaf ears. The idea that I am one of the Jeffersonain's "assets" that needs to be protected never ceases to infuriate me. Not only am I wholly capable of taking care of myself, but the idea that I am simply a possession of the Institute I work for; and not an autonomous, and invaluable employee, is simply insulting. I considered backing out of my presentation, but I'd already committed myself to the members of the coordination board. They'd given me free accommodations at the MGM, as a thank you for my attendance. They'd also ensured that me and my "bodyguard" were given rooms with an adjoining door, "for added convenience". I tried not to dwell upon this fact when I arrived there, but upon entering the hotel, there was an instant feeling of…_Booth_. This makes no rational sense, I know.

Making my way to my upstairs after check-in I forced my eyes not to look at his door as I walked past and quickly retreated into the safety of my own unlit room. As I sank on the bed, the bright lights of the strip washing my skin in garish pinks and yellows, (my editor tells me I need to indulge in more frivolous detail) I found myself facing the joining door that led directly into his suite.

I knew that he was aware of my presence.

I felt as though we were having a silent conversation through the door.

_I know you're there_.

I wasn't sure how I was going to get through these few days, now that I had been thrust up against the very person I was hoping to avoid. Well, that's not entirely correct. I didn't want to avoid him, but I felt as though decorum asked it of me. What I truly desired was for everything to go back to the way it was before, to burst through that door and press my body against his, let my tears fall silently against his neck, and make him swear to me he'd never leave me again. Pathetic, but true. Even though I knew he no longer wanted to be with me, one can't help but dream. As I thought this I somehow found myself standing in front of his door with my fingers raised in a fist. It disturbs me when my body makes decisions independently of my conscious mind.

I wondered what would happen if I knocked. If he would ignore me (improbable), if he would tell me to leave (unlikely), if he would grab a fistful of my hair in one hand, a fistful of my flesh in the other, and make us both forget why we were in separate rooms in the first place (I wish). I dropped my hand. I was speculating on things I knew wouldn't happen, and it was irrational. I took a shower instead.

As the steaming water ran over my skin, I felt my mind pulling me to the moment when everything had gone wrong. No matter how much I didn't want to think about it, I am a scientist first, and my brain must methodically sift through every failed experiment in the hopes of a better outcome next time.

I had been sitting in his arms on the couch, reading, while behind me he dozed. It was a chilly day, we'd spent the cold, sunny afternoon playing with Parker on a playground. (He was throwing leaves at me as I explained about photosynthesis.) Thinking of Parker hurt me. Though he is not my own biological child, I couldn't deny that I felt a deep sense of love and maternal protection for him. It used to bother me, but Booth taught me that I shouldn't be afraid of loving people, or of being happy. At that moment, in a lonely hotel room in Las Vegas, I wished that he had not.

We had been lying there, and I recall I had started to feel a curious sensation in my stomach. With his arms around me, warming me, while outside it was cold, I experienced an overwhelming happiness; something I haven't felt since I was very small. I should have known it was too good to be true. Maybe I did.

He leaned forward and kissed my neck, and I smiled without looking up. I had no way of knowing that it would be the last time he would kiss me. When he whispered the words in my ear, I think he immediately sensed that he should not have. My body went stiff. I could feel my heart rate rapidly increase as my adrenal glands pumped adrenaline through my veins. I was panicking.

He didn't show me a ring. It wasn't planned. He didn't say the words " Temperance will you marry me?" He just said that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, holding me in moments just like the one we had been enjoying. It was everything I had always needed to hear, though I didn't know it at the time. And because I didn't know it, it scared me. I think I was so afraid of losing Booth that…I lost him. I don't really know what that means.

When I didn't answer, he told me to look at him. I couldn't. He pulled the book I was still pretending to read from my hands and tossed it on the ground. "Temperance, please." I turned around to face him and he saw the fear in my eyes, but for once he misread me. He took it as rejection. He thought I was repulsed by the idea of spending night after night in his arms, Temperance Brennan, the antichrist of monogamy. Though I am not adept at reading facial expressions, he'd been so hurt that even I could read the pain on his face, a pain that cut to the bone. Perhaps those sessions with Sweets on reading emotions have been of some use after all.

He looked at me, waiting for me to say something, and I was fighting not to run. I felt myself launching into my usual lecture on the antiquated notions of marriage and fidelity, how it was really just a thinly veiled way of making a woman a man's property. Even as the words came out of my mouth I knew I did not believe them anymore. Maybe I had never believed them. Booth had changed me, the way I thought, the way that I saw things. I don't mean to say that I was different in the essential ways. I was still methodical, rational, brilliant. But I had lost some of my cynicism, perhaps because Booth had showed me that it really is possible to be happy. Marriage may be an antiquated ritual, but it stands to reason that there is an explanation for why it has survived when so many other traditions have fallen into disuse.

He had closed his eyes as I was saying the things he had heard me say a hundred times, and shook his head slowly. I believe that he had been hoping that I had moved beyond my negative ideals on the situation, and was now realizing that I had not. I had disappointed him, and that hurt me more than anything. I don't like to admit it when I'm hurt, but I don't think I could have hidden it no matter how hard I'd tried.

I stopped mid-sentence, knowing there was no point in continuing. "You don't really believe that bullshit Temperance, I know you don't. Maybe you did once, but not anymore," he had whispered. His eyes were clouded over in grief, and maybe anger as well.

He was right, I knew that he was right. But for some reason, maybe because I hate to be proved wrong, I insisted that I did mean it.

"Does the idea of being with me disgust you that much?" he'd asked.  
My mouth hung open. I don't know what to do in these types of situations. Normally I would run, or ask Booth, but I could do neither at that particular moment. "No, Booth. How can you say that?" was all I could manage.

"Because I thought that you had grown. Evolved, remember?" He asked, throwing my own word back in my face. He clutched the back of my head, his fingers winding so tightly into my hair that I gasped. "I had convinced myself that you were moving past all that fear of yours." He released me and stood. "I had convinced myself that you loved me."

"I-Booth, I—" I have never known myself to be unable to finish a sentence. But then I have never known myself to feel such hollow, heartbreaking fear. I did love him. If love exists, and if I am capable of it, then I did. I do. But I couldn't say it. Perhaps because everyone I have ever loved has left me; and I would rather lose Booth as a lover than lose him altogether.

He looked at me in a way that I couldn't understand and he turned to go. "Booth, please!" I called. My voice cracked, and I was ashamed of how desperate I sounded. I stood, reaching out, and grabbed his wrist in my hands, pulling him back to me. I felt like my stomach was going to fall through my abdominal cavity, though I know it was due to emotion rather than an actual physical possibility. "Booth, please don't go," I begged. "Please. Stay, talk to me!" I have never known myself to beg anyone, either. It was a lot of firsts for me that night. And a lot of lasts.

XX

I stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. I still hadn't bothered to turn on a light, my head was pounding and I found the glow of the neon signs from the street to be sufficient. As I pulled a towel from the rack, it trailed along the counter and brought a glass that had been set next to the sink crashing to the floor, where it shattered explosively.

As I bent to pick up the pieces, I thought of another literary device. My heart was the broken shards of glass that littered the floor. That one is a metaphor.


	2. O stay and hear! your truelove's coming

_Booth_

I pushed her.

I should have waited, I should have been more patient. I guess I was too in love with her to listen to my head, to realize that she wasn't ready. But even though it was all my fault I still couldn't bring myself to say I was sorry. I think I'd just realized that she deserved someone who wasn't a total numbskull, a guy who would wait for her to come to things in her own time, the way I should have.

It had been hard without her, harder than I was willing to let myself admit when I walked out that door. I spent most of my nights on my couch with a glass of bourbon in one hand and my cell in the other, agonizing about whether or not I should call her. The rest of my nights I spent sitting in my car outside her apartment, debating about whether or not I should go up. Working beside her after all of it was harder, but it would have been even worse if I had to go without seeing her at all. I can't explain how much concentration it took to listen to what the squints were trying to tell me, when all I wanted to do was grab her by that stupid blue lab coat and crush her up against me; say all the stuff I'd been wanting to say.

Parker didn't help much. It was getting tougher to think of reasons to tell him why she wasn't around anymore. He loved her a lot, more than I had expected he would. I didn't think they'd have much to talk about. But the more time they spent together, the closer they got. I think he likes how she doesn't talk to him like he's a baby; how she shows him the way things work without dumbing it down, how she's willing to answer any and every question he's ever had about what he sees in the world; and truthfully. It amazed me, how much she came to love him too. She tried to hide it, but I saw. When she thought I wasn't looking she'd put her arm around him, or let him sit in her lap; resting her head on his. I think she likes the way that he says exactly what he's thinking. She never has to guess what his true intentions are, never has to interpret subtle innuendo. They're alike in that way, and I think she finds it comforting, after being stuck in a world where no one ever says what they mean. It's funny, I always felt the same way about her.

XX

When they told me about going to Vegas to keep an eye on her, I agreed in a heartbeat. She had received several death threats over the course of the past six months, mostly from random whackos that Sweets claimed would never act on their rage, but a couple of them had him knitting his eyebrows with concern. My presence was just a precaution, and I was told not to worry her with the details. Of course I was well aware of how angry she'd be when she found out I was going; but I didn't trust anyone else to take care of her. I never will. I made sure to get there before she did because I thought that might make it easier for her. I watched cartoons in my room as I waited for her, my ears straining for any sound. I think I felt her presence in the room beside me before I actually heard her. She would say that that's not possible, but I know that it is. We're connected, we always have been.

As I listened, my heart thumping, I heard her tiptoe to the door that separated us, and I held my breath. Right in that moment I made the decision that if she came in, I would give in and press my face to hers and tell her that I was sorry, that I would never push her to be anything other than herself. I'd pull her so tight against me I'd be able to feel her heart through her clothes, bury my face in her hair, run my lips across her eyes.

She walked away from the door. My heart sank. I was getting used to the feeling. I heard the water running in her room, and to comfort myself, my mind immediately drifted to a warm place where the two of us were still together. A place where I would sneak into the bathroom, pull off my clothes, and slip in behind her. She'd jump, pretend to be annoyed as she said my name in a sort of reprimand. Then she'd laugh as I slid my fingers over her wet skin, across the angles of her hip bones, over her flat belly, and pulled her up against me. Maybe she'd reach her hand behind her to thread her fingers through my hair, lean back to kiss me, hum with appreciation as I ran my fingers over her favorite places. Maybe she'd turn around, catch my mouth on hers, sink her short nails into my arms.

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of smashing glass. I was up and through the door into her room before my brain even knew what was happening. I like when that happens, when my body just reacts. It shows me that my reflexes are still sharp as a tack.

Her room was dark, and my heart was pumping. I didn't see her at first, she was crouched on the bathroom floor, naked. The door was open and behind her, the blinking lights of the strip washed her skin this eerie blue color. It ran over her hair, her back, the nape of her neck. There was still water running off her in streams; the light caught the droplets on her body and made them glow like stars. Her hair, in thick, wet ropes, dripped sapphires.

I stood there for a moment, mesmerized. I knew I was going to scare her but I did my best not to. I whispered her name, the name I had given to her, as softly as I could. She started and dropped the glass she was picking up, standing quickly. She made no attempt to cover her body, and why would she? It's perfect. Besides, I had seen – adored – her naked body more times than I could count. The light cut across her, making hollows under her ribs, her cheekbones, beneath her eyes. As she breathed, the water-stars on her body moved, and glimmered. She looked like some sort of goddess. Man did I have it bad for her. Still do.

"Booth," she said, because neither of us had said anything else yet.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you, Bones," I replied. "I heard glass breaking."

She looked down at the pile of shards around her bare feet. "I just broke a cup. But thank you for your concern." It broke my heart to hear her speaking to me like that. It was how she used to talk to me when we first met. Before she trusted me.

"Well here, let me help you clean it up," I offered. I felt the need to do something. If I couldn't clean up the mess that had become our relationship, at least I could clean this one. "Don't move, you'll cut yourself in your bare feet like that."

She shifted to the side to pick up her towel and nicked her foot on some glass. "Ouch!" she whispered, sucking in air through her teeth.

"Bones! What did I say?" I lectured as I watched the blood begin to seep out from the bottom of her foot. In the darkness of the room, it looked black. "You gotta be more careful!" She bent and swept her towel off the floor, wrapping it around herself before sitting on the edge of the tub to inspect the damage.

"I'm fine, Booth, it's just a cut."

"Is it deep?" I asked, reaching out to grasp her heel so I could see. She moved away from me by a fraction of an inch, and I pulled my hand back, trying not to look as crushed as I felt. I forgot that I didn't have an all-access pass to her body anymore. I had to ask permission before my skin was allowed to touch hers, and right then, Bones couldn't handle that. It would have hurt her too much, I think. God knows it hurt me.

"No, Booth. It's perfectly fine," she assured me, though I could tell she hadn't really looked at it at all.

"Do you have any band-aids?" I asked, looking around the scantly supplied hotel bathroom.

"Yes," she answered.

I knew she was lying. I quickly cleaned the rest of the glass while she pressed some toilet paper to her cut. Finishing, I stood. "Okay Bones, you have the all clear."

She looked up at me from the tub, her wet hair sticking to the sides of her face. "Thank you, Booth."

The silence stretched between us for a moment, deafening, before I cleared my throat, and muttered, "Well, if you're okay, I should get to bed." It wasn't easy to say that to her, not after almost eight months of being the one that got to hold her in my arms every night. She didn't say anything, so I turned to go, leaving the bathroom and heading for the door. Then she spoke, so softly I almost didn't hear it. "You didn't have to come, Booth."  
I turned back and saw her stand and walk towards me, her eyes every bit as blue as those neon lights. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe, Bones," I answered.  
"I wasn't talking about the broken glass," she responded, referring to my sudden burst into her room.  
"Neither was I," I replied. A brief look of surprise flickered across her face before she managed to suppress it. I smiled weakly and turned for the door, tossing a "Goodnight, Bones," over my shoulder.  
I had opened the door to my room, the light flooding into the shadows of her own, as she whispered, "Goodnight, Booth". I shut the door behind me and tried not to think of her standing alone in the darkness.


	3. That can sing both high and low

_Brennan_

I was up before the sun.

Sleep had eluded me the past few weeks, and the added anxiety of speaking before my peers only contributed to my perpetual tossing and turning. I may be the uncontested leader of my field, but that doesn't mean that I am safe from scrutiny, nor immune to the sometimes rather childish criticisms that come with working in such a competitive area. Quite the opposite in fact, as some of my colleagues seem hell-bent on proving that I am no more gifted in forensic anthropology than they are. Their continuing failure in this particular endeavor, however, merely provides more evidence to the contrary.

I stretched and attempted to return my focus back to my notes, now spread across the floor I sat on in a seemingly unorganized (but in actuality meticulously arranged) formation. My mind, however, continued to wander to other areas of thought, particularly concerning the occupant of the room adjacent to my own. Booth is a morning person, as am I, but it was barely 6:00am and I didn't expect him up for another hour or so. I imagined he was probably dead asleep, his leg hanging off the side of the bed as it always seems to be; arms sprawled widely above his head as though he was purposely trying to take up as much room as possible. I smiled at the thought, ignoring the twinge of discomfort I felt knowing that I was no longer welcome in the warm cocoon of his bed, or the comforting circle of his arms.

A sharp rap at the door brought me out of my self-pitying state of mind, and I carefully placed the note cards I held in the appropriate pile before rising, frowning in confusion. It was too early for housekeeping and I didn't know who would come knocking on my door at such an early hour. I opened the door to reveal Booth, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, holding a tray of coffee and food.  
"Booth?" I puzzled, "It's 6:00 in the morning, what…"  
"Yeah, Bones, and you've been up since a quarter to five. The kitchen doesn't open for another hour and I figured you'd be hungry, so I brought you some breakfast."

He stepped past me quickly and set the coffee on the side table next to the bed. I turned to watch him pull a bagel and several varieties of cream cheese out of the paper bag. "How did you know I was up?" I asked, drawn to the smell of warm food.

"The light under your door," he answered, not looking up. I opened my mouth to speak and he quickly interrupted, "And no, you didn't wake me up. I was already awake." He smiled gently at me before taking a coffee out of the tray and straightening. "Anyway, I'll leave you to practice your speech."

He turned to go, but without thinking I quickly spoke, "You don't have to go, Booth. I was just going to take a break anyway. " He looked at me uncertainly, and his face mirrored precisely how I was feeling. I can honestly say I had no idea what I was doing, I only knew that I hated the way things had been between us, and I was determined to change it, to at least achieve some level of normalcy. In the past I have been loathe to admit dependency upon anyone, but I was ready to acknowledge that I needed Booth. Obviously I could live without him, but he had taught me the subtle difference between living and being alive.

"Are you sure?" he asked me. I nodded with what I hoped was an encouraging smile and he sat on the bed. I sat next to him, acutely aware of where we were, and accepted the coffee he handed to me. The sun began to rise behind us, painting the room a brilliant pink as I sipped nervously, not knowing what else to do. My mind worked frantically to churn out ideas for appropriate conversation topics. This is why I need to plan ahead, spontaneity is not something I do well.

"So, what's your speech on?" he asked me tentatively, taking a bite of his bagel.  
I silently thanked him for bringing up a topic I could talk about with ease. "Well, it's a theory I've been working on for a while, I've spoken with you about it previously, when we were working on a case. It surrounds the reverse engineering of bullets from the bone fragments of gunshot victims."

His face brightened. "Oh, yeah, I remember that! You tried that out on that case a few years back, right after we started working together…" his face clouded over as he remembered the particular case I had been alluding to, his eyes darkening to pitch. I was fairly certain I could guess at the scene that was playing in his mind at that moment, namely one in which I was hanging by my wrists from chains, while a pair of ravenous dogs waited, snarling, in the background.  
"Booth, I didn't mean to…"  
"I know," he replied softly. I sipped at my coffee again, cursing myself for ruining the only possible conversation piece available. "Now you see why I came?" he asked, looking at me with a cocky smile. "I can't leave you alone for two minutes without you getting yourself into trouble."

"W- that's ridiculous, Booth!" His smile widened at my protestations, only serving to irritate me more. "That's completely untrue. According to that statement I would have been in 'trouble' 240 times since you last spoke to me, not to mention countless times in the past six weeks—" I stopped myself abruptly, and his smile quickly vanished. I really am a lot better with bones.  
"Sorry," I muttered, standing slowly. "I'm not good at this."  
"Not good at what, Bones?" he asked, his eyes never leaving me.  
I shrugged, "Saying the right thing." Silence stretched between us for a few moments until the phone rang, making me jump. I picked the phone up off the cradle and set it back down. He raised his eyebrows. "Automatic wake-up call. I guess it was optimistic of me to assume I might actually get to sleep to a decent hour," I joked. He didn't smile. I looked away nervously, "Well, maybe I should start getting ready. I want to attend a few lectures before lunch."

He nodded and rose, heading for the door that connected our rooms. "I'll meet you downstairs in an hour, Bones." He shut the door behind him firmly and I sank down on the bed.  
So much for normalcy.

XXX

"Well I wasn't the one who asked you to come!" I fumed, exiting the lecture hall with Booth hot on my heels. I wove swiftly through the crowds of people exiting the auditorium, and he struggled to keep up.  
"No, Bones, the _United States Government _asked me to come, okay? That's not something you can just say 'no' to. Besides I didn't realize how—"  
"How what, Booth?" I demanded, spinning around so quickly he nearly knocked into me. "How boring it would be? I could have told that to the FBI, in fact I _did_ tell them that. I explained in infinite detail that the need for a bodyguard at a symposium full of 'squints' was ludicrous, and the idea of you being able to sit still through a two hour lecture, even more so!"  
His eyes narrowed and I turned to storm off, my anger seeming to crackle around me, but he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me aside, fighting his way through the rush of people. I shook my arm free but still found myself virtually pinned against a wall as Booth leaned down to speak to me in a heated whisper, his face well within kissing distance. My heart was pumping so fast I was certain he could hear it, and I wondered if he knew that it wasn't just from anger.

"Look Bones, I'm sorry, okay! You know I'm not great at the science stuff, but I'm doing my best."

"Your_ best_?!" I sputtered. "Booth, you fell asleep! You drooled on my shoulder!" That wasn't necessarily true, but he had fallen asleep on me. What I didn't mention was the fact that I had let him sleep on me for the better part of an hour, relishing in the smell of him, the feel of his weight on me. I only woke him when he began to draw attention with his horrifyingly loud snores.

"Well I haven't been sleeping okay? Plus it was so hot in there! And you have to admit that guy droned like Ben Stein! I half expected him to call 'Bueller….Bueller…."'

I gawked at him as he spoke in some strange nasal tone, his eyes scanning the crowd for someone. "Booth what the hell are you talking about? Ben who?"  
He sighed, his eyes rolling heavenward. "Forget it. Look, the point is, I'll try harder okay?"  
I eyed him suspiciously. "Do you promise?" I asked, my voice laced with warning.  
"Yes, Bones, I promise."  
"You won't text? Or fidget? Or snore? Or _hum to yourself_?" I emphasized, jabbing my finger in his chest. He had taken to doing that after the first half hour, irritatingly humming both the high and low parts of some tune I'm sure he would be shocked to hear I was unfamiliar with.  
"Scout's honor," he smirked, raising his hand.  
"I'm going to assume that's some kind of confirmation," I grumbled. It felt good, to argue with him, to make up, and tease each other. It was almost like before. Almost. I thought it might be a good idea to argue with him more often.

I started to rejoin the crowd and he followed, catching up and striding along beside me. "Come on Bones, let's go to lunch, I'm buying."  
"You better be," I replied. "But we can't be too long, there's another lecture in an hour. Though you'll be happy to know that the next lecture is a much more interesting topic."  
"Oh really?" he asked, intrigued. "What is it?"  
"Phylogenetic Systematics."  
I couldn't help but laugh as he began to groan with dread, but my laughter was cut short as a blonde, well-built, and rather chiseled looking man stepped directly in my path.

"Temperance!" he exclaimed, stepping forward and engulfing me in a bone shattering hug. (Get it? _Bones._)  
"Hello, Simon," I gasped, extracting myself from his grip.  
I could sense Booth beside me, rigid with tension, and I admit I was somehow satisfied with his jealousy. "Simon Cavanaugh this is Special Agent Seeley Booth, my partner." The word nearly stuck in my throat. Booth stiffly extended a hand, which Simon took obligingly before turning his attention back to me. "You look beautiful, Tempe, as always. What did you think of my lecture?"  
"A very interesting take on the subject, Simon, and very ambitious, though of course I would expect nothing less from you," I answered.  
He put an arm around me and drew me closer, as though to exclude Booth, though he was still well within hearing distance. "I wonder if you might have dinner with me tonight, I'd love to talk with you about it more."  
"Tonight's the banquet, Simon," I reminded him.  
"Ah yes, that's right!" he exclaimed, putting a hand to his forehead rather dramatically. "Well…" he mused, as I attempted to remove his arm from my shoulder, "perhaps you'd like to accompany me tonight then?"  
I shot a look at Booth, who was pretending not to listen. I might have believed him, had it not been for the fact that he was not breathing, and he looked as though he was about to punch a wall. I wasn't sure what exactly the etiquette was for this sort of situation.  
I didn't really like Simon, he was pompous and self-absorbed; but I saw no reason to hurt his feelings. Still, I had the feeling I would be hurting Booth more, by accepting. "Well, we've both previously agreed to attending the event, so I suppose you're already accompanying me, in a way. Since we're both going to be there, that is."

Simon blinked his large blue eyes at me for a moment, and realizing this was as good of a "yes" as he was going to get, gave me a showy kiss on the cheek and said loudly, "Wonderful, then. See you tonight, Tempe."

I gaped after him, wondering if I should try to set him straight; but instead I turned to Booth, not sure exactly what to expect. His face was surprisingly calm, though I noticed his hands were balled into fists. "So," I said hesitantly, "where did you want to go for lunch, Booth?"

"You go on without me," he said carefully, his voice dangerously quiet. "I seem to have lost my appetite." He turned to go, muttering "I'll see you in an hour," before disappearing into the crowd.  
My heart sank as I realized I was going to have to get used to seeing him walk away from me.


	4. Trip no further, pretty sweeting,

_Booth_

"A banquet?!" I seethed into my phone.

I heard Cullen sigh on the other end of the line. "I'm sure we discussed this Agent Booth."

"I'm sure we didn't, Sir, I think I'd remember you mentioning I would need to bring a tux to attend the Nerd Ball," I replied, attempting to keep my temper in check, and failing. I paced from one end of the room to the other: bed, tv, bathroom, wall; turn.

Bed. Tv. Bathroom. Wall. Turn.

"Well I don't see what the difficulty is Agent Booth, just rent a tux and the Bureau will reimburse you when you return."

"That's not the point, Sir." _Bed. Tv. Bathroom. Wall. Turn._

"Well then what is the point, Booth, because I'm failing to see the issue here."

I paused. What was the issue? It wasn't the tux. It was that some guy was taking Bones to a fancy annual forensic anthropology banquet and I wasn't. I realized I was pretty out of line, but it was too late to backtrack, so I feigned an apologetic tone. "Nothing Sir, you're right." I hung up and sat down on the bed.  
"Let's just get through this, Seeley," I whispered to myself. "Besides, this is nothing less than what you deserve." We'd sat through two hours of that phylogewhoozits systemwhatchemacallits in a steely silence, though I can say that I neither texted, hummed, or snored at all. I was too angry for that. After that was over, Bones presented her actually interesting speech on her new bullet theory. I could tell the other squints were really into it, and even though I was mad, I still felt a huge swell of pride. I knew she must be nervous, but she didn't show it at all. She took command of that stage.

After her speech, I fought my way through the crowd of people to congratulate her. "You did good up there Bones," I smiled, hoping she could forgive me for being an idiot. Again. "I didn't fall asleep once," I winked.

She laughed softly, taking my hand as she said, "Thank you, Booth. That means a lot." Before I could say anything else, we were pulled apart, as more of her peers bombarded her with questions. I headed back to my room to rest up and get ready for the banquet. Apparently every year these squints need to have dinner together in addition to boring the bejesus out of each other. Though after being alone in my room for a while, I remembered why I had been worked up in the first place, and the agitation I had felt before settled sharply into my skin as I recalled the way that Simon was touching her.

I sighed and reached to call the front desk and inquire about where to get a tux when I heard Bones' low voice speaking to someone. My whole body stiffened as I toyed with the idea that it might be that Simon jerk, come over early to try to cop a feel before dinner, but I quickly realized she was on the phone with someone. Angela, maybe. At that point I should have stopped listening, but something about the tone of her voice made me falter. And instead, scum of the earth that I am, I pressed my ear against the door and eavesdropped like it was going out of style.

"_No, I didn't know what to say, you know how I am in social situations_." Her voice, though muffled, was tight with emotion, and I felt a stab of guilt. I had acted like an angsty teenager; but when it came to her, God help me that's exactly how I felt. "_Yes I think he's upset…what?...No I didn't try to talk to him about it, he would barely even look at me…I don't know Ange, he's the one that left me, I don't see why he'd suddenly care who I go on a date with. Well it's not a date, but….you know what I mean_."

My heart stopped and I backed away from the door as though it had burst into flames. Left her? _Left her?_ Her words echoed in my head, strung themselves forwards and backwards, weaved in and out of my synapses. Of course that's what she thought. She didn't realize I'd had my pride hurt, that I'd just needed to cool off. But after that I'd been too much of a coward to call her first. When she never called me either I just figured that's how she wanted it. I sank back onto the bed. "Seeley Booth you are the biggest moron in the entire freaking _universe_," I muttered to myself, threading my fingers through my hair. Had I known that all this time, she thought I didn't want to be with her; that I had left her to look for someone who shared my "antiquated notions" of marriage, I would have…God I would have run to her apartment, picked her up and shook her for thinking that I could ever love anyone else. That I'd ever want to be with anyone else. I felt sick, knowing that even right at the very moment, that is what she believed.  
Biggest. Moron. In the universe.  
But as I berated myself, a realization dawned on me, and it felt as though I was thinking clearly for the first time in nearly two months. I finally understood what had happened between us, and if I understood that, then I could figure out how to fix us. I had to. God knows she deserves better, but I knew I couldn't live without her, and I was too selfish to consider the alternative. My eyes narrowed.

The only minor flaw in the plans already formulating in my brain was blonde, burly, and blue eyed.

Simon.

XXX

Twenty minutes later I was in my freshly rented tuxedo and pacing the hotel room, my mind plotting. I just needed to find the right words, lay all my cards on the table, let her know she was in control.  
Suddenly the door to our adjoining rooms swung open and my "cards" were laid out on the table for the entire world to see. My jaw slackened as Bones walked into my room wearing an impossible black chiffon evening gown and a tentative smile.

"Sorry, I knocked…" she said almost sheepishly, indicating the door. I think I may have gibbered some response but for the most part I could only stare. The swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her collarbone, and her sweet freckled shoulders were all showcased beautifully by wide silk straps that seemed to come down and wrap around themselves, cinching around her waist. The material from her waist flowed outwards gracefully, ending just below her knees with a hem of more silk. Her soft brown curls were down, framing her face perfectly. And her mouth, dear god her serious little mouth was painted a shade of red that should be illegal, because it nearly killed me.

"You look…" I stammered, unable to process. "You're…beautiful, Bones."  
Her cheeks nearly went as red as her lips for a moment, and she ducked her head, concealing a small smile. "Thank you," she nearly whispered. After a moment she cleared her throat and said more loudly, more seriously, "So, does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?" The look in her eyes was so intense, and it made me wonder if she was only speaking about today.

"I was never mad at you, Bones. Never," I answered slowly, making sure she understood my meaning. Her eyes widened a little in realization, her mouth parting ever so slightly. I reached out to take her hand, to tell her everything, but just as the tips of my fingers brushed hers, someone knocked on the door in her room. She turned away from me slowly, as though she didn't want to break eye contact, before walking back into her room and opening the door.  
Simon stood there, grinning like an idiot as he took in the sight of Bones…_my _Bones. His leering stare was nearly unbearable, until I walked into the room with a look that seemed to knock any happiness (or hopes of getting lucky), right out of him. I tried not to smirk with satisfaction. He looked at Bones and asked loudly, "Will your _bodyguard_ be joining us?"

I saw her hands slide slowly, and characteristically to her hips and I grinned inwardly. After five years of being around this woman nearly every day I knew exactly what that body language meant. This guy was going to get it. _Go, Bones! _ "My _partner_—" she started.

"-- Who has a gun," I offered quickly.  
She whipped around to glare at me, blue eyes flashing, though I think I detected a hint of amusement in them; and then turned back to Simon. "My _partner_ will be accompanying us tonight, Simon. And if you have a problem with that, or if you plan on trying to cause any arguments tonight, I suggest you go…" she turned to me with a line of frustration wrinkling her forehead. "Booth," she half whispered, "what's the colloquialism for when a man attends a social function alone? I seem to remember it being some sort of male animal. A buck?"  
I fought to contain my laughter at this exquisitely hilarious woman as I managed to say the word, "Stag, Bones. It's called 'going stag'."  
Her eyes glinted with satisfaction as she refocused her attention on the increasingly intimidated, not to mention confused, Simon. "Then I suggest that you 'go stag', because I am not here to watch you belittle anyone to make yourself look good. I am going for the enjoyment of my professional colleagues' company, and to have…fun," she huffed.

I nearly fist pumped in the air with the shocked and defeated look that came across Simon's face at her little declaration. At first I wondered what had gotten into her; but as I watched her await his reply, her slender fingers still wrapped vice like around her curvy hips, I assumed she had dealt with him before and knew how to handle him. That's my girl.  
He dipped his head in submission. "Of course, Tempe, I didn't mean to offend you." He made eye contact with me over her shoulder as he slid an arm around her waist, "I just thought we might be able to talk alone, is all. But if your bo—partner, wants to tag along, then that's fine too." He winked at me over the top of her head. He fucking _winked _at me. I nearly decked the guy.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be tagging along," I snarled through gritted teeth. He guided her out of the room with his hand on her lower back, his fingers trailing dangerously towards the curve of her incredible ass. I followed behind them, closing the door behind me, making sure his fingers didn't migrate a single millimeter south.

Seeing his hands on her was almost more than I could take. I got this sort of tunnel vision as we walked down the hall, my focus narrowing in on the fingers touching her flesh until I could barely see anything else. As we reached the elevators, and he leaned close to whisper something to her, his lips grazing her ear, I snapped. Stepping in between them I whisked Bones onto the elevator with me, her shocked "Booth?! What the?!" echoing in the elevator car while I jammed the "door close" button. Captain Amazing seemed too stunned to do anything as I waved and shouted through the closing doors, "Security reasons! It's a body guard thing, see you on the ground floor!"  
His prissy face clouded over with annoyance but he stuck his hand out way too late, and the doors slammed home, plummeting us downwards. I didn't have much time, and as I spun to her I could see she was royally pissed. Her arms were crossed, her sweet chin jutted up defensively as her crystalline blue eyes narrowed their icy focus on mine. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing, Booth?!" she demanded, her arms arcing outwards, palms up.

"Bones," I was thinking so fast I could barely get anything straight, "Bones, look, I know you're pissed, and you have every right to be. And I know that you don't owe me anything, but I'm asking you, no, I'm begging you to let me talk to you. Talk, that's all I want to do." Her eyes were searching my face, analyzing me like a skeleton. "Please, Bones," I whispered pitifully, "I just have to tell you how I…" I trailed off, not knowing how to finish my sentence. I knew I was running out of time, and I had to do something. _In for a penny, in for a pound, _I thought as I jammed the "stop car" button.  
"Booth!" she yelped as the car lurched and she tripped forward. I reached out and caught her solidly in my arms. She blinked up at me in shock, her soft lips mere inches from mine, as her arms continued to cling around my neck where she'd wrapped them in an effort to save herself. I could feel her chest pressed against me, breathing in and out quickly with the adrenaline of her fall, or maybe something else.  
"I just have to tell you how I feel," I finished. "You need to know," I breathed, her eyes were looking so far into mine I was sure she could see straight into my soul, if she even believed in the existence of them. I felt her stop breathing, her mouth opening slightly in surprise at what was happening, at my sudden outburst of need for her. "I need you to know," I whispered. I looked at her, willing her to understand, to say yes.  
She spoke, and I was surprised at how calm she sounded, though I could feel her heart racing against me. Her voice vibrated through her back, my hands tickling. "And whatever these feelings are, Agent Booth," she began, our faces so close her lips brushed mine as she spoke, driving me slowly insane, "they weren't just prompted by the presence of a blonde, rather irritating forensic anthropologist were they?"

"No, Temperance." I looked at her, and she knew by the way that I said it, that I meant it.

She nodded thoughtfully, her hair trailing along the backs of my hands as I still held her, looking up at me with her arms slung around my neck. "Alright then. I accept your proposal." Her choice of words weren't lost on me, but I couldn't tell from the enigmatic look in her striking blue eyes whether she'd meant them in the way that they sounded. "After dinner, you and I will go up to my room and…talk," she finished slowly. There was a look on her face, as though she was trying to keep it a mask, but her eyes glinted with unshed tears, and I could feel her trembling in my arms.

"Okay," I choked, a lump of gratitude and love in my throat threatened to strangle me.  
A small smile came over her face as she continued to look up at me. "Booth?"  
"Yes?" I asked, my nose brushing hers.  
"Will you let me up now?"  
It felt so good to hold her like this in my arms, to feel her wrapped so tightly against me, to feel the warmth from her body and the solid softness of her flesh, but I knew I had to let her go. For a few hours, anyway. And then never, ever again, if I was going to have my way.  
I set her upright, never breaking eye contact, and she slowly released her arms from around my neck. We stared at each other for a few beats before she walked backwards and hit the "stop" button again.  
We were each on opposite sides of the elevator now, neither of us daring to blink, as it slowly made its descent towards the ground floor. Her hands gripped the side rails behind her as she studied my face from her side, biting her lip. I leaned against the wall as I looked at her from my side, owning her, reclaiming her, with my gaze alone. An intense heat seemed to be pooling between us, filling the elevator floor. My breathing increased just watching her watch me, and right as I was about to close the distance and crush her against the wall, the elevator dinged and came to a halt.  
The doors slid open slowly, revealing a rather irked looking "buck".

We both looked at him as he whined, "What took you so long? I caught an elevator _after_ you."  
I sighed as I watched her leave the elevator, saying something about "mechanical difficulties."  
It was going to be a long night.


	5. Journey's end in lovers' meeting

_Brennan_

_Just breathe, Temperance._

I took a calming breath and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to remove myself from the current situation. The distinctive tinkling of glassware and cutlery, and the soft hum of hundreds of conversations happening simultaneously filtered through my thoughts, jarring them in my already flustered brain. I opened my eyes in frustration, just wishing I could escape to somewhere quiet to think.  
I had to organize my thoughts, put things in order, collect myself.  
Instead I absent mindedly straightened my place setting and set my wine glass at a perfect 45 degree angle to my plate. Then, upon further deliberation, I picked up the wine glass and emptied its contents into my mouth. I felt the warm, tart liquid hit my tongue and slide down my throat, making my insides burn.

"Are you feeling okay, Tempe?" Simon asked, taking hold of my face by the chin and turning it towards himself. "You look flushed." Even as he feigned concern he reached to refill my wine glass.

"I'm fine, thank you Simon," I answered, trying my very best not to smack him. He had been using any excuse to touch me all night, and while I simply found it annoying, Booth apparently found it irksome enough to resort to forensic anthropologist-napping.

Booth.

I shook my head. No. I couldn't think about that yet.

He was sitting to the right of me, and Simon on the left. There were two other people at our small, circular table, a man and a woman, but I had barely managed to nod at them as we took our seats. The woman caught my eye across the tall beeswax candles flickering on the table. She looked sympathetic.

The sickly sweet smell of the candles was getting to me, and my thoughts continued to rush at me so fast I clasped onto the sides of my seat to keep myself steady. I began to rise, to try and work my way through the maze of tables in this large dining hall and find a quiet spot to think, but as I did so a small bespectacled man approached the podium and chimed on his glass with a fork for silence.

I wilted inside, and Booth, seeming to sense my rather tense attitude at the moment, ran his hand soothingly across my back, his fingers brushing the bare skin exposed there. But it wasn't soothing at all. It was unbearable. My skin seemed to crackle under his touch (though this sensation is actually the result of a rush of chemicals), and my muscles tensed. He sensed this too, and took his hand away without looking at me. He had been quiet since we got off the elevators, not speaking once since we had sat at the table. Perhaps he was trying not to push his luck. Or perhaps he was just smart enough to act apologetic after tossing me into an elevator like…oh what's-his-name. The man who lives in the jungle and swings from vines in a loincloth.

The man at the podium, whose name I couldn't seem to recall, though he was once a leader in the field I am sure, began to embark on what I anticipated to be a very lengthy speech. Though I myself am rather humble, anthropologists are world renowned for their love of their own voices.

As he spoke, though on what I could never say as my mind was too engrossed in other things to pay attention; waiters came and set dishes of soup in front of us. It smelled incredible, and the soft candlelight that lit the room made it look as though it were made of liquid gold. In reality I think it was some type of butternut squash. Either way, I couldn't even attempt to eat anything.

I did manage to drink more of my wine, however. After some length of time, at which point the speaker appeared to be only one tenth the way through his note cards, the second course came, and I could no longer stand to be in the room. I swiftly stood as the waiter weaved around me to set a plate at my place, and clumsily ducked around him, apologizing softly.

I threaded swiftly through the tables, not knowing where I was headed, only that I had to be out of that room. I could feel Booth's eyes on me as I walked, burning a line of heat down my spine, and resolved not to turn around. I also realized, as I skirted a man that had slid his seat back to stand, that I was more intoxicated than I had previously believed. After what seemed like hours I reached the double doors that opened heavily in my grasp, and stumbled out into the main lobby.

I cut across the lobby to the first door I could spot that lead to the outside world, then paused abruptly, my heels sinking softly into the thick, lush carpets. The ever-crowded, noisy, garish streets of Las Vegas are not a desirable spot for taking a quiet moment to collect one's thoughts. I turned and instead went to the elevators, choosing the balcony attached to my suite instead. The doors dinged shut cheerfully behind me as I slumped against the steel walls of the elevator, the cool metal searing my fevered skin. I willed myself not to think of the last time I had been in an elevator, of the things I had wanted to do; had almost done.

Reaching my floor I rushed to my room and swiped my card through the reader, closing the door softly behind me, and made my way to the balcony, shutting off the lights as I went.

The January air hit my bare skin and made me take in a breath. The cool air felt magnificent; it was nothing like the bitter cold of D.C, but it bit at me deliciously as I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped further outside, surveying my surroundings. My heels clicked softly on the concrete of the sizable balcony, approaching the edge. The glass partition cut me off at my chest, and I leaned on it with my arms as I took in the breathtaking view. The lights of Las Vegas glittered below me, beckoning to me with promises of love, riches, and dreams fulfilled. I could feel the neon colors washing my skin, their distinctive buzz gently unwinding the piano wire that felt like it had coiled so tight inside of me it was about to break.

I took in a breath, closed my eyes, and began to think.

I have a certain way of attacking a situation. First, I carefully take the problem apart, dissecting it into smaller, more manageable pieces. Then, I organize each smaller problem in order of most problematic to least, and go about resolving them one by one.

But this. This was just one big, sticky, messy, snarl of problems. I couldn't even begin to extract one from the pile, without getting even more helplessly tangled. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know how I felt about it, or what I wanted. It seemed like Booth might be ready to reconcile, but my wasted heart wouldn't allow me to hope for that. I knew that if I did, and I was mistaken, it would be more pain that I had to bear. And I wasn't up for that.

But, I wondered, hypothetically of course, if Booth were to ask me to go back to being lovers again….would I? The feminist in me wanted to say "_No. Of course not. He hurt you more than he will ever understand, even if you did reject him, accidentally or otherwise. You don't deserve that._" But whatever equates to the opposite of my feminist side was screaming the opposite. And I wanted so desperately to give in to it. I wanted Booth. I missed him so badly my body seemed to ache for him. We hurt each other, yes, it was true. But he had always taught me that loving someone was about loving them even when it wasn't easy.

I opened my eyes, watching the cars on the strip snake in and out of the lanes, as my resolve slowly grew. I would fight for him. For once in my life, I wouldn't be a coward about this. I stood up, my heart swelling as I heard the door open softly in the room behind me. In the dark, I heard him coming towards me where the balcony door was open, and I half sobbed his name in relief. "Booth?"

He stepped into the light and my heart stopped, a lump of disappointment forming in my throat. "Simon."

"Hey Tempe," he slurred, obviously having dipped into the wine even more than myself. He came out onto the balcony, and I backed away from him, trying to blink back my tears of frustration. He was holding two glasses of wine, as if he needed any more, and handed one to me precariously. I took it from him because I honestly didn't know what else to do. He leered at me in a way that finally made me understand Angela's tendency towards the phrase "heebie-jeebies".

"You're so beautiful," he attempted, and I laughed bitterly. It's funny how when Booth told me the same thing it made me feel like I really was beautiful, and when Simon said it, it made me feel sick. My body's physical reaction to his weak attempts at seduction, perhaps.

He reached for me and I backed away further, until my spine was flush with the cool glass of the balcony. "Simon…" I held a hand up, indicating he shouldn't come closer. His brow knit like a spoiled child's, and he scoffed.

"What? You're too good for me?!" he laughed at the idea, his drink spilling across his wrist and soaking into his shirt sleeve. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Brennan."

"What, no Tempe anymore?" I spat sarcastically.

"You _wish,_" he slurred, stepping closer. "You know," he began, drunkenly pointing his index finger as more of his drink sloshed onto his clothes, "I always heard you were a bit of a cold fish. An ice queen. A reserved, withdrawn, little _tease," _he laughed. "But then, once I heard you were fucking your meat-headed bodyguard, I thought maybe you'd finally come around."

I bristled with anger, the rage welling to the surface like fire.

"I was actually going to thank him for loosening you up for me!" he chuckled. "But then, I guess if he dumped you as unceremoniously as I've been hearing, you can't have been that great in bed anyway."

I do not consider myself a dramatic person. I don't need to throw my drink in someone's face, or become hysterical. Not when I can just "kick some ass", as Booth would say. In one smooth, swift motion, I dropped my glass, stepped forward, and broke Simon's nose with a well-delivered upward thrust of the heel of my palm. The sound of my glass shattering on the ground was drowned out by Simon's rather womanly shriek as he fell to his knees, blood spurting out from between the fingers he had clamped tightly around his nose.

"Nice shot, Bones."

I started, looking up to see Booth leaning against the side of the sliding door with an amused, and rather proud, look on his face. I couldn't help but smile, and for a moment we beamed at each other over the groaning heap of Simon who lay twitching at our feet.

"Thanks, Booth."

"You know, I was about to kick his ass for you, but then I thought it would be rude of me to deprive you of the satisfaction."

"Thanks for thinking of me," I whispered.

"I'm always thinking about you," he answered quietly, the lights of the city sparkling in his darkening eyes. How we flirted with each other while a drunken fool lay bleeding at our feet, I couldn't say. But we did.

"Why don't I take care of this?" he asked, gesturing to Simon.

"Please," I replied.

I watched in amusement as Booth easily lifted the lanky Simon over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. I believe I heard Simon blubber, "Bithhht!" at me as he was hauled away, but his hands covering his mouth prevented me from hearing. In any case, Booth accidentally smacked his head on the wall as they made their exit, causing him to howl again.

I shuffled on the balcony, sweeping the broken glass aside with my foot. The sounds of sirens far below me reached my ears, mingled with thumping music and other sounds of humanity, and I leaned over to watch the night go by. I felt Booth behind me, but I didn't turn around.

"Is Simon alright?" I asked over my shoulder, the wind picking up a stray piece of my hair. I felt the heat of his body against my back as he stepped closely behind me.

"He'll live," he said huskily, his hand coming to rest on my neck, thumb grazing my cervical vertebrae. "I dumped him in the elevator, they should be finding him right about…now." He laughed softly and I felt his breath, hot and moist on my ear. I knew without looking that his eyes were crinkling up at the side like they do when he smiles.

I closed my eyes as his thumb moved back and forth across my neck, lowering my head to give him more access. "Hey, Bones?" he asked, his body now flush against mine, his skin impossibly hot.

"Yes?" I breathed, unable to open my eyes.

"Can we talk now?" his arms had snaked around my waist, his fingers digging deeply into the flesh of my abdomen. My knees were trembling and I clung to the edge of the barrier to support myself.

"No," I whispered, spinning around in his arms to meet his shocked expression. I snaked my arms around his neck and brought his face so close to mine my eyelashes brushed his cheeks. Bringing my mouth to his, I bit hungrily at his lips, and huskily breathed the word, "Later."


	6. Every wise man's son doth know

_Booth_

I had kept quiet all night.

I could tell Bones was trying to figure everything out in her head, break it all down the way she likes to, and I wanted to let her try. But I knew it wouldn't work this time; because no matter how much she tries to deny it, you can't measure emotions. You just have to go with your heart, instead of trying to analyze everything.

She was getting all worked up, a line forming across her forehead as she straightened her place setting meticulously. Sweets would tell her she was trying to control smaller aspects of her life because she felt out of control when it came to the bigger ones. She would tell Sweets that whatever he said was a guess.

She left some time after that ancient windbag started rambling on about the history of anthropology, and I can't say I blamed her. I just wished she'd taken me with her. But I knew she needed time to figure everything out, and she would need space in order to do that. I watched her slip out the doors at the back, my eyes on the bare skin of her back.

Captain Egghead didn't even realize she had gone until he was so sauced he could barely stand upright. I'd been watching him wearily over the course of the night, and I didn't like what I saw. Well, I disliked it even more than usual. When he stood up, stumbling like the big buffoon that he was, I quickly followed behind him. I had an idea where he might be going with the two glasses of wine he lifted from a passing waiter's hands.

I exited the room a little too late, the elevator doors closing on him just as I rounded the corner in the foyer. I jabbed at the button for the next elevator impatiently. It was taking forever, and after about three minutes I headed for the stairs. She was only on the seventeenth floor.

As my feet smacked the stairs, the sound echoing in the height of the stairwell, my mind was racing. She had been quiet, and I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe she was quiet because she was nervous, or maybe she was quiet because she was trying to think of a way to let me down. It had seemed to me like she'd been just as broken up as I was over the last month or so, but maybe that had just been wishful thinking. Anyway, I realized, increasing my speed, none of that was as pressing as the matter of Simon, who at this very moment was probably already in her suite.

I had broken out in a light sweat, but I run the stairs at the local stadium, so I made it in pretty good time. If I do say so myself.

I heard voices as I entered her room, coming from the balcony. I could see Bones through the glass, cornered with her back to the partition. Her face was stone cold, her lips drawn in a grim line as her eyes narrowed at Simon, who was standing entirely too close to her. Clearly the conversation was going well.

The wind was carrying their voices, but I heard him call her a tease, and I immediately bristled, my fingers bunching into fists. I stepped forward, and his voice became clearer. "But then, once I heard you were fucking your meat-headed bodyguard, I thought maybe you'd finally come around."

I gritted my teeth.

"I was actually going to thank him for loosening you up for me!" I heard him laugh, "but then, I guess if he dumped you as unceremoniously as I've been hearing, you can't have been that great in bed anyway."

My mouth went numb, my heart pounding with anger. No one, _no one_, speaks to my Bones like that. I stepped forward, fist pulled back to knock the guy's teeth out, but Bones beat me to it. Blue eyes ablaze, her slender little wrist shot up with lightening speed, the heel of her palm striking his nose with a satisfying crunch. The guy dropped like a sack of potatoes, whining like a little girl.

Bones looked down on him, panting with fury, her breasts heaving. I leaned against the edge of the glass door, watching her for a moment.

"Nice shot, Bones."  
She looked up, startled. I smiled at her, and her face broke out in a grin. God, it was so good to see her smile, really smile, at me. I knew there were only a handful of people who had ever been on the receiving end of that smile, and I considered myself the luckiest man on Earth for it. Of course, she'd tell me there's no such thing as luck.

"Thanks, Booth," she grinned.

I shrugged, "You know, I was about to kick his ass for you, but then I thought it would be rude of me to deprive you of the satisfaction."

She glanced down at the pitiful pile of Simon lying between us before looking back at me. "Thanks for thinking of me."

I replied without hesitation. "I'm always thinking about you."

Her eyes studied my face as the wind toyed with her hair, drawing it across her eyes. Behind her, the city glowed. My heart was caught in my throat, and I wanted to pull her to me so badly I could hardly stand it. Simon groaned at our feet, the sound cutting through the tension. "Why don't I take care of this?" I asked, nodding to the third wheel.

"Please," she said softly. I bent down and hoisted the string bean over my shoulder. He tried to swear at her but I whacked his head on the wall to shut him up. I carried him down the hall and hurled him in an elevator, hitting the button for the main floor. The way he smelled, I knew the hotel staff would find him and assume he'd gotten drunk and tangled with the wrong person. Which is actually what happened.

I patted him heavily on the cheek and he squealed, at which point I exited the elevator with a wave and a wink. I would have loved to take a picture on my phone, for the memories, but I had much more important things to tend to.

She was standing with her back to me, still on the balcony. She'd tried to sweep away the glass, but my feet crunched on the remnants as I came closer. "Is Simon alright?" she asked without turning around. I came up behind her, so I was almost touching her, and answered, "He'll live. I dumped him in the elevator, they should be finding him right about…now," I laughed. I couldn't stand not touching her anymore. I compromised with myself, allowing myself only to touch her shoulder. Just her shoulder. Nothing else. I slowly brought my hand up to her where her neck met her shoulder, dragging my thumb across her spine. Surely the spine was connected to the shoulder in some way. I didn't dare ask her, just in case it wasn't. She leaned forward, and I increased the pressure.

"Hey, Bones?" I asked quietly.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I was drunk on the feeling of her underneath my fingers. I needed more. Maybe just her hips. No, her stomach. I took my hand from her shoulder and slipped both my arms under hers, sliding my fingers along the angle of her hip bones, digging into her flesh as they came to rest on the smooth plane of her stomach. I was standing outside, in January, and I was so hot I was sweating.

The smell of her skin was driving me insane. I wanted so badly to pull the lobe of her ear into my mouth until she groaned my name. But I held back. There were things that needed to be said. "Can we talk now?" I whispered in her ear.

"No," she breathed. My heart stopped. I could feel her trembling beneath me, holding onto the glass for strength. I felt as though I was falling, like the world was spinning. She turned in my arms, bringing her arms up around my neck and pulling my face so close to hers I could taste her breath on my tongue. I was very confused. She leaned forward, taking my bottom lip in her teeth to bite it, drawing her tongue along the lower edge. "Later," she mumbled as she clamped her mouth firmly to mine.

An incredible wave of relief rushed over me, and a happiness that made me feel like I might float away. But all of that was quickly replaced by intense desire, as she tightened her grip on me, on hand reaching down to grab onto the lapel of my coat and pull me flush against her. My body quickly caught up with my mind, and my hands were sliding up her back, into her hair, my tongue clashing with hers, teeth grating, as we were caught up in a whirlwind of passion.

She whimpered into my mouth as I pulled up the bottom of her dress, hiking it around her waist so I could dig my fingers into her thighs. I had missed her so goddamn much, and now to have her here, tasting her, touching her, smelling her, it was almost more than I could handle. I wanted all of her at once, I wanted to give every last bit of myself to _her_. I cupped the back of her had as I ran my hand across her breast, kneading her. She made a small noise in the base of her throat, pulling off my dinner jacket, quickly followed by my tie.

Our mouths hadn't left each other for a breath of air, and neither of us seemed to mind. I wanted to touch her everywhere I hadn't been able to, to reclaim what was mine, but her dress was proving a serious problem. "Off, Booth," she hissed against my lips, "take it off." Praying for strength, I broke away from her long enough to grasp the hem of her dress and sweep it over her head. She gasped as the cold air hit her naked body, I gasped as I realized she wasn't wearing underwear. Her hair fell around her shoulders, clinging to her dampened skin. The lights of Vegas danced on her, and she looked at me unabashedly. We stared at each other for a few beats, panting. Voice cracking with emotion, eyes filled with tears that didn't fall, she said, "I missed you." I couldn't speak for the lump I my throat. In the street below us, people were laughing. She opened her mouth to speak again. "I missed you so much. I didn't feel whole when you weren't there. It was like there was a part of me that was missing, a really important part, and I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I never know the right thing to say." She looked at me, exposed both body and soul, waiting.

"You just said it, Bones," I choked, pulling her against me. "God, I'm sorry too. For being such a moron, with my stupid pride. For not calling you when that was all I wanted to do. I missed you so much I couldn't eat or sleep." She sobbed against me, into my chest, and it broke my heart, but I willed my own tears to stay put.

"Don't leave me again, Booth," she begged, burying her face into me, and I clutched her tighter.

"Never, Bones," I promised with such conviction that both of us knew I would never break it. "Not ever. Not even if you want me to. I'll camp out on your doorstep for the rest of my life if need be."

She looked up at me, her face shining with tears, and said so seriously I felt it in the marrow of my bones, "I would never want you to leave me." She pressed her lips to mine gently as she began to work the buttons of my shirt one by one, pushing my shirt off and letting it fall to the ground.

XX

"Bones!" Parker shrieked as he ran full tilt into her open arms. Laughing, Bones embraced him tightly, picking him up in her arms and spinning him around before setting him back on the ground. "I missed you," Parker stated, beaming up at her. She ruffled his hair in her fingers, eyes shining. "I missed you too, Parker."

"Where have you been?" he demanded, taking her hand to tow her across the park to his favorite playground.

"Well," she frowned, "your father and I had an argument and I –"

"Bones!" I interrupted, "Ix-nay on the Ighting-fay…"

She looked at me in confusion. "I'm sorry Parker, it seems your father may have had a stroke."

I rolled my eyes heavenward. "Come on, that was Pig Latin!" I exclaimed.

"What? Pigs don't speak Latin, Booth, nor any other language for that matter," she corrected me as Parker released her hand to run to the monkey bars.

We sat on a bench to watch, the cold January sun doing little to warm us. "I know, Bones, I was just trying to tell you that you don't need to talk to him about our little…separation."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Booth, I don't see why you're so averse to telling him the truth. You can't shield him forever you know," she lectured, taking my arm and placing it around her shoulders. "And I think he's smarter than you give him credit for."

"I know, Bones," I smiled as she curled herself into me. I pulled her tighter and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "But maybe I can, for a little longer."

"I suppose I agree," she conceded. "Besides I don't enjoy talking about it. It hurts too much."

She looked up at me and I placed a kiss on her mouth. She whimpered as I drew my other hand around her head, wrapping my fingers in her hair. My tongue slipped into her mouth, and our breathing quickened drastically, until a dramatically drawn-out, "Da-aa-aa-ad!" caused us to break from each other, panting.

Parker bounded towards us and jumped into Bones lap. She smiled and quickly wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head as I had just kissed her. Well, not _exactly _like I had. It felt good to see them together. It felt really, damn good.

"What were you doing?" Parker asked, not-so-innocently.

"We were kissing, Parker," Bones answered.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, why do you think?" Bones questioned.  
Parker looked from me, to Bones, and back again. "Because you love each other," he answered thoughtfully. It wasn't a question.  
Bones looked at me, her beautiful face glowing in the sun, eyes illuminated. "See?" she laughed.

"He's much smarter than you think."

**Thank you so much for reading.**


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